This started with a kmeme request over at dreamwidth, and has turned into a sequel for Sulevin'din Shiral. Prompt listed at the bottom to avoid spoilers!
"How could you do this? He killed our brothers, he killed Duncan!" Alistair's face flushes deep scarlet, his features so twisted he is beyond recognition.
"There's a Blight and the last thing we need to do is kill a general who knows what he's doing." Elin's chest rises and falls rapidly, and the anger courses through her.
Alistair looks at her a few moments before he shakes his head. "He knows how to run away." When she bristles at his words he makes a sharp downward gesture with his hands. "No. You're a traitor, just like him. To the Wardens, to Duncan, to the king. I'd rather abandon my oaths than serve with either of you." He spits at her feet. "I can't believe I slept with you."
Her gut clenches and she stares up at him, not quite able to believe the words that ring in her ears. "But... I love you." She licks her lips as her skin prickles with dread.
His bitter laugh echoes off the stone walls. "Some kind of love."
With that, he turns and hurries from the room, the door slamming shut behind him
"No." The word is a whisper, and it does not bring him back to her.
Something inside Elin breaks and she crumples to the floor as hot tears run down her cheeks.
When her tears are spent she crawls into bed, promising herself she won't cry over a shemlen again.
He can't escape her name.
It follows him everywhere - north, south, west, east. All of Ferelden sings her praise, and the hate inside him grows deeper, darker.
He turns to ale and whiskey until the day he wakes up in the bed of a whore. It is then he leaves his cups and turns to mercenary work. The work is hard and thankless, and the men around him are crude, but he's doing something and it takes his mind off her.
The day the darkspawn find him he is in a putrid fishing village somewhere along the south coast of Nevarra. The other guards are terrified, but his blood burns and he fights.
The merchant and the other men eye him warily from then on. None of them understand why there are darkspawn around two years past the Blight's end, or why he fought while all of them cowered, but they hate him for his courage. They hate him because three of their fellows are dead and he has been left standing.
He leaves them in Cumberland and returns to Ferelden, tired of heat, and strange accents, and food that makes his stomach ache.
He has barely been in Ferelden a week before he hears of her again.
Another Warden senses his blood. For all that the man is a stranger to Alistair, the man recognizes him.
"You. You're Alistair." The man hisses his name through clenched teeth.
He nods once. "I am."
Alistair doesn't see the man's fist until it is too late, and his mouth is suddenly filled with mud.
"You dare show your face here? After abandoning everyone?" The man kicks him.
Part of him rages beneath the throbbing pain, but the other part accepts the accusation; the words are true and they shame him.
A strong hand seizes his collar and turns him on his back. The face is oddly familiar, but he can't quite place why.
"She told me about your stunt, running off because of Loghain. What was it, too afraid to die?" The man snorts in derision.
Alistair frowns. "I don't know what you mean." His head spins and he licks his lips nervously, tasting the mud there. Too afraid to die?
It is only now that the man stands straight again. "Riordan died killing the Archdemon." When Alistair says nothing, the man's expression loses its edge. "It had to be a Warden, and that Warden had to die."
The words sink into his skull like teeth, piercing so deeply that he can think of nothing else. Duncan had never told him. He'd never known and now he suddenly understands Riordan's insistence and this strange Warden's disdain. The words said in anger rush back to him and all of his hate is replaced by shame.
He casts his eyes up at the man. "I need to see her. Please."
There are several wordless moments before the man nods and he extends a hand. "I'm Nathaniel Howe."
Elin frowns. Nathaniel has finally appeared on the road, but someone is with him. She climbs down from the wall and walks out to meet the two.
When she recognizes the man with Nathaniel, she stops. "No." She cannot face him after the things he has done. The things I have done.
Alistair's pace quickens and she can see his face light up. "Elin. I'm sorry, please let –"
She turns and runs before he finishes, feet swift. She runs to the forest and its dark, tangled comfort.
It is dark before she her legs fail her. The woods are silent and she has left no trail he can follow. She is safe.
The Commander is gone three days before she returns. When she gets back, she has a dark glare for the Howe and heated words for the man with the golden hair. In the end, she storms into Varel's office and tells him to see Alistair makes himself useful. Varel nods, and does as she commands.
Months pass before Elin speaks to him without anger. It isn't for lack of trying on his part; he's sent her notes and tried to corner her, and all of it has been met with a fierce rage. His cheek bears the mark from a cut of her dagger, and it is only after she has spilled his blood that he stops trying to say he is sorry. She has no need for his apologies.
He works among the laborers rebuilding the keep. It is hard and dirty, and every night he has a bone-deep sort of exhaustion that makes him want to give up. He is tempted, but when all the work is done for the day, he turns to the practice yard and goes through the forms.
Alistair doesn't know why she started watching him. She is silent and unreadable behind her tattoos and it is then he realizes how much she has changed.
It is then he realizes how much he has changed.
In the years since that bitter night, he has learned patience and silence, and even when her gaze makes his skin itch he goes on as though she isn't there.
One day she joins him.
She catches him unawares, daggers flashing, pale hair gleaming in the torchlight, and in a few moments she has him on his back, the impact tearing the breath from his lungs.
"Form does no good if you cannot meet an opponent in battle. Try again."
Her eyes are hard and calculating, and the moment he is on his feet she is at him again. She is faster than he remembers, too fast, too skilled and this time he ends up on his stomach with her knee in his back. She tangles her fingers in his hair and places a blade just under his chin. The cool steel is startling, and for a moment he thinks she is going to end it all.
The blade is suddenly gone, along with her weight, and he looks up to see her retreating form.
Elin calls over her shoulder. "Too slow, shemlen. Train with the other Wardens."
She delivers the words in harsh, curt tones, but he smiles all the same. He is one of them again.
"Alistair, with me."
His breath catches. Four years have passed since that order has slipped from her lips. He falls behind her as she walks through the gate and along the road. She turns into the forest abruptly, and he does his best to follow her. He stumbles and trips, but she doesn't mock or berate, she simply leads, as she always has.
They finally stop at a small pond. She gestures towards a log and he sits. She stares at him for several long moments. "Why did you come back?"
He's spent so long accepting her indifference that at first he has no words. She waits while he struggles to find something to say and the lines across her forehead wrinkle just so.
Alistair finally lets out a long, low breath. "I was wrong. About everything." Her eyes harden and he feels the shame creep up his spine. "I shouldn't have said what I did, I shouldn't have abandoned you-"
"No, you shouldn't have."
He recoils at the sting in her words and they stare at each other for several tense moments. "I'm sorry, Elin." The apology is pale and flimsy, and he doesn't ever expect her to forgive what he said. Still, it is better than nothing.
She nods once. "Prove it."
He smiles a little, then, and she rolls her eyes, which only makes him grin wider. In that moment he catches a glimpse of the woman that loved him and part of him dares to hope.
Her blood burns as the creatures swarm her. There are too many. The dwarves around her are dying and her Wardens are bloodied and she curses herself for bringing too small a party. The roads beneath Kal'Hirol will be her tomb.
It is then the burn is soothed to warmth as arrows fly, stopping the darkspawn in their tracks. Elin half-turns to see Alistair charging down the tunnel, the archers she left as a rear-guard following close behind him.
Even with the archers, the battle rages several more minutes before the last of the darkspawn lay dying. She moves to end their lives with a flick of her wrist, and she signals the healers when the dying are her own.
Her steps falter when one of the motionless bodies belongs to Alistair. His hair is matted with blood and a dagger is firmly planted in his belly. Her call to Jeren is frantic and she cradles Alistair's head in her lap as the healer goes to work.
Alsitair's skin is cool and pale. The carefully constructed mask Elin has worn for years finally slips. Through tears and shaking breaths, and she finally tells him the truth of the Blight's end. All her Wardens know what she and Loghain did, and it is long past time Alistair knew. She has been too shamed to tell him.
By story's end, Jeren can only promise that he might not die.
Alistair awakes in a strange place with a strange dream echoing in his head. Panic wells in this throat and he struggles to sit up. His attempt is cut short by pain and a dizzying weakness that makes his entire body throb.
A wet cloth is pressed to his head and Elin whispers in his ear. "Shh, go back to sleep. You're safe."
Alistair desperately wants to stay awake, to hear her voice and feel her breath against his skin, but he eventually succumbs to sleep, and his dreams are filled with her.
She says nothing when he thanks her. The dispassionate looks and short, clipped commands are back again, and Alistair begins to wonder if that moment of softness was a fever-dream.
The uncertainty doesn't ease through another set of seasons, and he finally dares to ask.
Elin is quiet for a few moments, and her dark green eyes run over his face before she nods. "I was there."
"I know you didn't have to, but it meant," he shakes his head, "means, more than I can say. Thank you."
She tilts her head to the side and her lips twitch at the corners. "You have done well as a Warden, and you needed to be watched." She quirks an eyebrow at him. "I think you read too deeply."
He frowns. "What? No, I didn't mean that, I meant…" He stops when he realizes he does not know what he means.
Elin's lips curve and her eyes brighten and Alistair suddenly remembers the first time she bedded him. His face heats, and he quickly turns his gaze to the ground. Calloused fingers run along his cheek and he leans into the touch.
"Silly shemlen." Her voice is husky and thick, and his pulse quickens.
A finger trails beneath his chin and he dares a glance at the elf. Her lips are parted slightly and her eyes bore into him as if they can read his every thought.
He licks his own lips and the closeness makes him acutely aware of her scent – pines and leather and oiled steel. "Elin, I-"
Her fingers slide into his hair, pulling him down to meet her lips. There is a moment when everything is right before she abruptly pulls away. She searches his face and her brow creases a moment before she kisses him again, slowly this time. Her tongue teases his lips until he opens his mouth, and the near-forgotten taste of her makes him sigh. His arms slip around her unbidden, and he can feel his pulse fluttering wildly as he tries to commit her taste and feel to memory.
Elin pulls out of his embrace and steps back slowly. She crosses her arms across her chest and nods once. "There are reports of darkspawn along the coast. We leave at daybreak." She turns and leaves, all cool control.
He stares after her, only asking why when she has disappeared.
Elin's heart pounds loudly in her ears. The ogre has settled its attention on her and the other Warden fight for their own lives. She is on her own.
It swipes at her clumsily and she manages to roll away. Her quick movements only infuriate it and it swipes angrily. She dances, chest burning with the heavy, quick breaths. Her foot catches a stone and she stumbles at just the wrong moment. The ogre's massive fist closes around her and she can feel her ribs crack. It lifts her to its face and roars through crooked teeth. Spittle splatters across her cheeks.
The Dalish blood inside her rages and she screams back at it so loudly it blinks and loosens its grip just enough for her to pull an arm free. She hurls a dagger at the thing and the blade pierces the creature's eye, and the thing drops her. The impact sets her lungs on fire, and something gives in her left leg, but she's free.
Her blood hums and the other Wardens rush toward her. "Get Elin!" Ingrid's voice rings clear through the air as she and the others surround the ogre.
One runs to her, tearing the helmet from his head.
Alistair is red-faced and sweaty, and the fear in his eyes is raw. "Elin, can you walk?"
She has yet to catch her breath and can only shake her head.
"Hold on to me." At that he scoops her up in his arms and carries her away from the battle and the dead, and even though the way he holds her hurts, she doesn't protest or cry. He lays her down gently and removes her leather cap. "Where are you hurt?"
She is unsettled by the way he looks at her and even more unsettled by the heat that gathers in her cheeks. "Ribs and leg. I'll be fine" She starts to push herself up, but the shooting pains make her grimace.
Alistair lays a hand on her shoulder and keeps her flat on the ground. "Stay still, the others are almost done." He leaves to help them and she almost asks him to stay.
As she watches him hurry down the path, she realizes she has forgiven him.
Alistair knocks lightly on the door, stomach fluttering nervously. He shouldn't be here; he might ruin everything.
But six years is a long time, and he feels it's finally right. He can't forget the kiss that gave him hope, and the way she looks at him now. She still stares, silent, but she smiles a little when he catches her eye.
The door opens abruptly. "Alistair." Elin looks up at him, expression calm.
He swallows hard. "Elin. Can I come in?"
She seems to think a moment before shrugging. "Alright."
He follows her in, shivering a little when the door closes behind them. She gestures to a chair and he sits. Elin settles behind her desk, posture easy, and spreads her fingers. "Well?"
Alistair leans forward and holds out a hand. She eyes it a moment before she slowly settles her hand in his.
Relief washes over him, and he blinks to find his eyes wet. "Before I say anything, know I don't expect anything from you." Her brow furrows. "I just – I love you." His throat tightens and he feels as though he's been hit in the chest with a mace. "I never really stopped loving you. That's all I wanted to say."
She nods slowly, and her fingers trace an idle circle over his palm. "I know."
He begins to pull away, but she catches his wrist. Her eyes hold his and she shakes her head. "Stay."
His mouth is hot on hers and his hands haven't forgotten where to touch her, even if they have grown a little clumsy. She arches into his touch, whimpering against his mouth until his fingers drive her mad. Her body tenses and she tears her mouth from his, gasping at air while her limbs tremble.
His teeth trail down her neck, and the spent heat begins to pool inside her once more. She pushes him on his back and straddles him. She grasps his erection firmly and guides it inside her.
His hands are on her hips as she moves over him. It's been so long – too long – and the fullness is almost too much to bear. His fingers tremble against her skin. His eyes close every time she pushes down, and she knows he's struggling to hold back his release. Elin's own climax is close again, and she slips a hand between her legs. She reaches her fulfillment quickly and hisses his name between her teeth.
It proves too much for him and with a few more thrusts he is spent. She sinks against his chest, panting hard as his arms move around her.
She lets out a soft sigh and presses a soft kiss to his collarbone. The world is right again.
She is still tight around him and pressed against his body as he begins to drift into sleep. A sudden shift of her hips makes him groan – too much! – and he opens an eye to see her smiling at him.
He lifts a hand to stroke her dampened hair and the same awe that filled him after their first time together has returned. "I love you."
Elin turns her head and nips his wrist. "And I love you." She smiles lazily. "My silly shemlen."
Prompt: I've really been enjoying reading angsty fics where Female warden (in relationship with Alistair) conscripts Logain and Alistair throws a fit and leaves. While I am still a romantic, and therefore want Female Warden and Alistair to get back together, many fics have this happen too quickly to be believable.
Here's what I'm looking for:
- Alistair and fem Warden have a huge, angsty, horrible things are said- fight and he walks out
- for whatever reason, months or years later, Alistair realizes he was completely at fault and goes to try to get Fem warden back
- However, Fem warden is PISSED about what Alistair did (that he didn't trust or listen to her, that he said horrible things, abandoned her, etc.) and she is mean and cold to him for a long time.
- Lots of angsty fights, etc. while Alistair tries to win back her love and reestablish trust.
- Finally, after a long time, she allows him back into her life and eventually they fall back in love.
I know it'll likely be a long fic...but I'd love you forever!